We drove through Wyoming. Windmills in the sunset, and then it was so dark that we could only guess about the landscape outside the van. It felt like there could be mountains, or we could just as well be driving on a high road past flat fields, or buttes, or a reservoir. But all we could see was the road, and above it all the stars. Once we drove through a tunnel. When the blackness finally made driving seem too much like playing Pac Man with the dotted center line, we pulled off into the Wagonhound Road rest area sixty miles outside of Laramie. We spent the night in the car. It was freezing and I had dozens of crazy dreams.
Our show in Denver, unfortunately, was canceled, but I did have family in town. We had some more car trouble. And here are photos from a hike in Roxborough State Park.
It was about 75 degrees, in November. Maybe Colorado was making it up to me after all those times I’ve been snowed in during layovers at DIA.
We also went to see my friend John Kite play the piano at the Ship’s Tavern bar in the Brown Palace hotel downtown. He’s been playing the piano there for, I believe, around thirty years. 
I also got to meet a few more self-proclaimed “shirttail relatives,” wonderful people. 
We met up at a place called the Breakfast King. The upholstery there was very orange. So were these pumpkin fields.
We took a wrong turn and so got to explore two tiny highways on our way back to I-80 as we left Colorado.
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